Just Like Broken Paris Lights
by RelapseAndEscape
Summary: Santana hates losing her control. So, she does the only thing she can. She enlists Wes and her to rape Sebastian. It doesn't go so well when Sam and Finn find him afterwards, bloodied and barely able to walk. TW: rape, evil!Santana, drugs. Oneshot. Response to Glee Angst Meme.


_i know. i know. i usually post this on my other account, but meh. i'm too lazy to skip. i was looking through my LJ account and seeing what i did/didn't post...so yeah. here it is. what i didn't post. enjoy?_

* * *

And for what? _Control_.

She's always in control, because it's her kind of territory – _control_, - all hers, it kind of makes her, and Sebastian Smythe cannot take what's hers. If anything, she's not his. _He's hers_. He's completely and utterly hers. She's seen brilliant Paris lights and sights and city romances with sexual glances, and it's so completely and utter soft, weak, fragile, and made out of hopes.

Sebastian Smythe's soft, weak, and fragile, just like Paris lights, and he's made out of hopes.

She loses all of that control when he stands there, in that kind of _I'm better than you and always will be_, thrusts his hips in some sort of pride, like sexual French desire, and his nails are manicured and sharpened, just like a model's and he looks like he belongs in a tabloid. His lips are that candy-sweet colour, just begging to be torn into shreds and for him to be bled.

She loses control.

And _to_ what? To a _boy_.

It'll all be alright because she has a plan. She goes to Scandals, and now, she's in control, because it's kind of _his _territory – _control_, - all hers, it kind of makes her, and Sebastian Smythe _will not_ take what's hers. If anything, he's hers – _and he's also Wes's_, because she's sure she's never seen a Warbler so completely and utterly like her. She's seen brilliant boys who hide off in the closet in love with Blaine Anderson, and it's completely and utterly full of fire, because she's sure that he's made out of so much action, not _hope_, action – strong, hard, and sturdy in the face of shattered Paris lights.

She lies through her teeth. Wes' strong, hard, and sturdy, just like her, and he's made out of action and attention. Some of those words are mere lies, and others are truth, "—you can ask any of the Warblers. The minute you left, he just throws himself in Captain Position and then he douses Blaine's eye out with a slushie filled with rock-salt, and Blaine has to have surgery because it scratched his cornea. He can't see right now. Sebastian Smythe also threatened to kill him, and even says that his original aim is Kurt, and that he's not stopping until both of them are completely and utterly destroyed."

Wes stares at Santana, eyes full of horrors, and he's not an angry person – he's a reasonable person, just like Blaine, but even Blaine has a soft point, and so does Wes, and she's hit it. She can see she's hit it, and with a sip to her mocha, she swears she can taste the taste of domination. He looks like a kicked puppy out, but then his eyes harden and crystallise and he asks her what she's planning to do, and she brings a manicured – not Paris fragile manicured nails – sharp ones, hit to the oval – nail to Wes' lips and then lets a hot breath out near his ear as she whispers her ploy.

He twitches three times, and then relaxes visibly.

He agrees. And for what? A _boy_, a curly-haired boy that's in love with another boy.

She just offers to buy him another mocha, and she lies even more about Blaine's state – _he can't move, he's scared, he's horrified, he doesn't like anyone, he's seriously so very petrified, even I'm worried about him and I don't give a fuck about anyone, Kurt's locked himself in his room, Blaine suffers from clinical depression, they haven't seen each other in a while, they might break up,_ - and that's when Wes' eyes kind of twinkle like headlights, and there's that curved little smirk and she knows she's hit her target.

She plans it as if it's her wedding, eloquently detailing every event so that every one of Wes' doubts are erased – _the Warbler's are going to a party, Sebastian's staying in and then going to Scandals, I heard Nick and Jeff talking about it and then laughing at Sebastian's nearly every Friday ritual, Dalton's gonna be empty, here's your chance _– so when they walk into the dorm room, Sebastian really is alone and he's asleep and he's vulnerable, and he looks a lot like Paris lights, twinkling with dreams.

She smashes them in a second when she prompts Wes – _whose taken a few little harmless injections up his veins, just so he'd be more sustainable to doing so_, - pins him by the wrists, and Wes' eyes trail over and insanity prevails and Santana stands there staring at Sebastian's eyes as they flash and snap at her. "What the fuck are you doing?" Sebastian's voice is like ice, but she doesn't miss the hint of unknown fear buried into the way he says 'what' and 'doing', and she detects it and breathes it in like it's medicine.

Sebastian's eyes flash back towards Wes' face, the Wes that Blaine tells him about and shows him pretty little polished pictures, and Sebastian just rolls his eyes—lying on top of his body, and he finds himself with that feeling of cold and utter dread at the pitch of his stomach and he's grimacing, the kind of grimace when he wants control but doesn't have it, oh, she knows, and he just snaps at her. "You're a disgusting filthy human being and you deserve to rot in Hell," Sebastian states, when Wes starts unbuttoning his Dalton blazer.

"Whatever you say, gorgeous," Santana's voice is smooth, and there's no hesitation, just coldness.

Wes' hand is over Sebastian's hip, and it's cold and Wes is in control right now, and so is Santana, and her eyes are wafting over Sebastian's chest, small, delicate, thin, just like Paris would make him to be, and she lets her – sharp, perfect oval – manicured nail dig into his hipbone, as he just shuts his eyes, teeth clattered together, and disgust evident in his eyes. It's not enough to threaten him, though and she knows that, so she looks back at Wes and nods her head once, and twice, as if to confirm the action phase.

Wes doesn't hesitate before he unzips Sebastian's pants and she swears she's never seen skin pale so quickly. She's pinning down his wrists right then, manicured sharp oval-shaped nails digging into his wrists, and he's too paralysed by horror to even move – and he thinks he recalls his coffee tasting a lot like iron, - but he doesn't understand and he can't move, so he just stares. He's not in control of his body, the emotions in him right now and he can't turn away and he can't shake, so he just stares, because that's all he can really do right now. Wes slowly unzips his pants, and then runs his hand across Sebastian's thigh –

Sebastian wants to shiver, but he can't, so he just stares at Wes, controlling his body, controlling what he does to it. Sebastian feels like a corpse, and just worries that he won't ever be able to walk again because he doesn't know what are in those pills and a part of his body is raking and telling him that _stop you idiot that way they'd get caught in the act _and then he watches Wes slowly unbuttons his Dalton blazer and every minute is just made out of anxiety and fear, and he wants to throw up.

"Stop," Sebastian hisses it out like it's a demand. Santana wants to laugh because he can't do anything, and yet he's still issuing his demand as if he's got all of the power in the world.

She digs her nails harder in his wrists, and he shut his eyes again. "Fucking _stop_," Sebastian repeats and now, his command slurs like weakly, as if he just hopes they'd stop.

Hopes.

He's so full of hope it's adorable and she just shatters it all up. She's never felt this amount of control in her life and she can't wait until Wes shoves himself inside of him. Wes suddenly tears off Sebastian's shirt – which isn't what neither is expecting and then trails down a hot breath up and down Sebastian's stomach, and they're all part of her game right now, because Wes is just a puppet without strings and Sebastian can't even move. She's directing the scene, and her eyes are lapping up every second as if it's the sweetest nectar a bee can obtain, and then she watches Wes slam Sebastian on his side. At the forceful hit, Santana accidentally digs her fingers deeper into his skin, and he's biting his lip because they haven't started yet but the anxiety makes him want to cry and puke at the same time. He can hear unbuckling and he wants to shake and tremble and cry.

"Adorable ass, Smythe," Santana whispers into his ear, reminding him that he's vulnerable, that he can't do anything and that he's just nothing to any of them. Sebastian just nods her head over at Wes and he shoves himself inside of Sebastian, causing his eyes to widen in horrors, and he elects a scream but her hand is over his mouth. His saliva trailing on her skin, - lack of control, lack of power, submissive, vulnerable little Paris hopeful dreams on her skin, and he just stares at her horrified, and Wes just pushes in and out of Sebastian, thrusting, so full of control, and there's nothing other than that that truly matters to any of them right about then.

She bites his neck, and nibbles on his skin to create her marks and Wes continues to fuck him from the back, and her tongue trails up to his neck, and his breathing is unstable and unsteady. Sebastian must feel the friction, hard, painful, because he's bleeding little lipstick-coated dreams, and she's just watching him. He starts whimpering and his eyes scratch up to pain, and then his eyes water with tears. He starts sobbing. "Please…" he's begging right now, and she's never felt more electricity in words before. "Please…I'll do anything."

"Should've done it before, sweetheart," she snaps at him. Wes would come into Sebastian's ass, leaving a trail of cum in his wake. Santana smirks, and then nods towards Wes. Sebastian visibly relaxes, even though tears are still cascading down his eyes, and Wes buttons up his shirt and pants and Sebastian doesn't want to have sex again in his life. Santana just stares at him, lays a hand onto his cheek, feeling how wet it is – submitting to her. She wants it to last, so she doesn't think twice when she strips herself down, naked, and Sebastian's eyes are widening and now, he's begging to her again.

"Please, please, don't…please. Don't. I…please. I'll…" and she knows, she knows it better than he does, that he can't threaten her, so she just gives him a dark smile, and then shoves herself on top of him. He lets out an ear-shattering scream, but this time, Wes' cupping his mouth and Sebastian's breathing rapidly increases, and it's all for control. His body's hers as she scratches his skin with her nails, as she fucks him –

He's _hers_.

And for what? _Control_.

* * *

And for what? _Escape_.

Sebastian Smythe doesn't like the smell of his room anymore, and when he slides off his bed, all he can do is _leave, leave, leave_, and he doesn't want to see anyone right now, and now that he can walk again, all he can feel is the aching in his legs, and his ass and how weak his stomach is because he feels as if he's offered anything, he'll just puke out the lunch he'd had in five hours ago, and he's in his car right now and he drives off and his hopes are shattered and he's weak, and fragile and soft, and now, his entire world breaks into one little piece and he can't understand anything that's going on when he starts driving.

He stops in the middle of the road, randomly, and the road's blank, and there's nobody there and he just stays there and cries. He cries so hard he can't feel his own body anymore again and that only makes him cry harder.

His anxiety's through the roof and he can only hear thoughts of _go fucking kill yourself_ and _you were a cheap lay anyway_ _and they know it_ and _you should be happy anyone even touched you _breaking him down into nothing, units of nothing. He stops, steps out of his car, and just walks. He can smell the blood in his legs – didn't he change those trousers? He can't remember, he can't remember anything anymore, and he just walks, and it hurts, and he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing but he knows that he can't stay in that car, because if he does, he's just gonna swerve himself off the road and kill himself.

"Posture, Sebastian, posture," his own voice sounds ridiculous. He's not in control. "Fuck you," he tells himself, because he's never met or seen anything so weak in his life, so he just grabs onto his own head and starts trying to maintain posture. He starts to walk again but he's tripping and stumbling and that's what Finn and Sam see when they're walking on their way home to Puck's, and they see him shakily falling near a steel pole, and their hearts snap into pieces because their eyes are suddenly on his tear-tracks, and on the blood in his wrists, and he's shaking and holding so hard onto the pole it's almost like he can't stand up.

Sebastian thinks he hears the sound of "_Sebastian Smythe_?" before he faints.

When he wakes up, he's not home, and when he stares up at the ceiling, all he sees is blue and he feels like throwing up again and he's not sure if it's because the ceiling's fucking or if he's still as weak as Hell from the memories plaguing his mind and he swears he's been asleep for a thousand years because everything's still so sore that he can't move, so he stares at the ceiling and he sees a body move towards him, two, a blonde with pink lips, a tall oversized one with dark hair and he swears that they're from McKinley. "I'm so pathetic, aren't I?" his voice is so full of coldness. "Did you take me here to laugh at me? Please, be quick, because I've got a date with a gun before midnight."

His words are cold, and thick, and it makes Finn move close to him because he doesn't like what that suggests. "Dude, we gotta bandage him up," Finn states and Sebastian's staring at him with wide eyes.

"…you'd help me?" Sebastian chokes out the words.

"…dude, you're bleeding and you can't stand. Of course we'll help you," Finn responds, and then stares at his wrists and Sam grimaces. Finn says he's going to go get the kit, but instead, he brings his Mother, whom was standing there, holding the kit in her hands. Her eyes are authorative as she shuts the doorway to Finn's room. "I told her she can't let Kurt come in here—he's just gonna start screaming."

"Gotcha," Sam nods.

Carole doesn't ask why as she busts out the kit, disinfects the wounds on his wrists, and looks sadly at the boy below her, she wraps his wrists up, and then she speaks. "What happened?" eyes are on Finn and Sam because she doubts that Sebastian's gonna tell her anything, but both shrug.

"Just found him, can barely stand and bleeding…" there's still the scent of blood that's far too strong for it to just be a few wrists cut.

"I'll check if he has any more cuts," Sam trails his eyes across his body, and then makes a movement to unbutton Sebastian's blazer to check for any additional wounds and the way that Sebastian's face pales and his entire body tenses and he grabs onto Sam's hands and shakes him.. "NO! PLEASE DON'T I'M SORRY I SWEAR PLEASE DON'T—!"

"Sebastian, it's okay," Finn tries to assure him and he's scared and he doesn't know what to do.

"PLEASE DON'T STOP IT STOP I'M SORRY I SWEAR!" his voice is so loud it rings through the entire household and Finn's sure that when the door creaks open, it's either Kurt or Burt. It's both, standing there and racing.

"What's going—?" Kurt's eyes are onto Sebastian's face, unable to react, not understanding anything at all.

"Kurt, you're gonna make him worse," Sam states.

"I'M SORRY I'M SORRY OH GOD JUST PLEASE STOP DON'T PLEASE!" Kurt grabs onto Sebastian's body and rocks him back and forth and Finn steps back stunned at Kurt's reaction and Sebastian's screams turn into mere whimpers, whispering words of "please" and "I'm sorry" and Carole's paling as hard as ever before. Kurt lies Sebastian back down and looks at Sebastian's frame.

"…his pants are wet," Kurt says. "He smells like blood."

"No offence, Kurt, but I don't know what that means—"Finn's cut by Kurt.

"It means that SOMEONE RAPED HIM!" Kurt's voice is full of rage and he can't think of anything to do as he stares at Sebastian's face, now clouded with pain, eyes are bloodshot from all the crying he's been doing. Kurt's arms are around Sebastian's shoulders right about then and he stares at him with solemn eyes. He's shaking and twitching. "Talk to us, Sebastian."

Sebastian shakes his head, and looks around. He wants to find someone who doesn't scare him as much, but they're all scaring the crap out of him. Sebastian shuts his eyes. "…Wes and Santana…they…"

"They?" Sam's voice just repeated that one word, and that caused Sebastian to explode.

"_They drugged me beforehand, Wes raped me, and she was watching and then decided that she wants to get a piece of me for herself_," Sebastian says, then everything clouds to silence and then he laughs because it hurts so bad. Kurt's staring at him with wide eyes.

"I'm gonna kill them," Burt snaps, overprotectiveness over the boy below him that's caused Kurt to react in such a way. "I'm gonna—"

"And why would you do that?" Sebastian's starting to sound more sure of himself. "I'm the reason your son's boyfriend has to go into surgery. If it was up to me, it would even be _Kurt_. I fucking deserved—"

"_Don't you dare ever say that,"_ Kurt's eyes are strong right now. "Nobody deserves to get raped."

Sam nods in agreement to Kurt, and then Finn steps away for a second when Carole says something to him, opens his drawers and randomly picks a pair of boxers, a shirt and some pants before pulling himself towards him. Burt shakes his head. "We need to take him to a hospital for a rape—"

"No!" Sebastian screams. "I don't want any fucking rape kit!"

"Sebastian—"

"No," Sebastian repeats finally.

Sam steps in front of Burt and then nods. "Just let him take the shower. He really doesn't want it," Sam tries to convince him. Burt looks at Kurt and he gives a final nod of approval. Finn grabs onto Sebastian's hand and Sam helps him from his other arm, and they help him stand up. Kurt's holding the clothes in his hands, as Finn leads the way towards the bathroom. Sebastian steps by the doorway.

Sebastian just nods, and takes the clothes with a shaky hand from Kurt and locks the door behind him. Kurt worriedly paces around the hallway. "What are we going to do?" Kurt's voice is heard even through the roar of the shower. "We can't let Santana and Wes get away with that! They can't just fucking go around _raping_ people…" Kurt's voice is soft now and his eyes are burning with tears.

"I'm filing a court order," Burt begins.

"No," Finn says. "He doesn't want to remember. Did you see the way he _acts_ when you mention it? He starts breaking down. He's not gonna like it if we're gonna make him go to court for this. He really just wants to forget about it."

"But that's not fair to him—"Carole begins.

Sam shakes his head. "It's not, but we've gotta take in the fact that he doesn't want to take it to court."

Kurt nods towards Sam, understanding his point of view, and then he sniffs. "…I've never seen him look like that. It scares the hell out of me. Yesterday, he'd stride around with a low-fat latte in his hand like he owns the world and right now, he's…he's scared out of everything. It scares me so bad." Kurt's voice is so low that he doesn't even hear himself speak.

Sebastian opens the doorway and now, Finn and Burt move towards him. Burt puts his hand up and then grabs Sebastian by his waist and carries him.

Sam suddenly asks. "Do you want to take this to court?"

Sebastian looks drained and tired and wants to sleep and wake up at the top of the world as he shakes his head. "Fuck it. I just want bed." Burt and Kurt stride together and Kurt suggests that his room's less of a memory-ball for Sebastian. The minute that Sebastian's on Kurt's bed, his eyes all around the walls and Kurt's room. "—this is definitely Kurt Hummel's bedroom," and his voice is half-disgusted.

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Smythe, if you don't stop with all the chick jokes, you're gonna find yourself in a Chanel dress this time tomorrow."

Sebastian then half-smirks and it's most of Sebastian Kurt's seen in a while and it hurts, because even with that half-smirk, he still looks like a shell of himself. "Just get some rest, alright?" Kurt states.

"You're gonna make a great Mother one day," Sebastian snorts finally.

"Bitch."

"Kurt—"Sam wants to tell him it's going too far but Sebastian's lips twitch back into a smirk, and he looks like Kurt's just professed his love to him.

"Paris is cold tonight," Sebastian suddenly says.

"Is that your way of getting me in bed with you?"

Sebastian shrugs, and Kurt can see tears forming into his eyes, because he misses himself too. Sebastian just turns to look at Kurt's dresser. Kurt sits on his bedside again. Kurt looks down at the boy before him. The days would go by and Kurt's remarks would become snider, and Sebastian would hit back with the same amount of remark. In two weeks, Sebastian won't even acknowledge Sam's existence. In three weeks, he'd make fun of Finn's shirt. In four weeks, he'd start making sexual comments to Blaine again. He's still empty on the inside. Sebastian Smythe's still soft, weak, and fragile, just like broken Paris lights.

But Paris has no hopes tonight.


End file.
